Pretend To Forget
by Alodia
Summary: Traitor. Legolas is the perfection of even an Elf. But whose to say there isn't a twist in his pristine person? Whose to say the story ever really goes on.... or even began? Is Legolas really who everyone thinks him always to be?


_"Traitor."  
  
The words tumbled from his listless face in a flat, emotionless voice where his fine lips barely shaped them. His eyes were cold daggers of empathetic hatred, bothersome tresses of mahogany tinted with a ghostly sheen of ocean blue unperturbed across his forehead, accenting his defined cheekbones. The only possible personal involvement with the utterance was slight tension rippling across his muscular body, which was handsomely detectable beneath his nearly transparent white, unbuttoned shirt. The barely circulating air shifted his loose fitting chestnut pants.  
  
"Thaliandae, don't..."  
  
Now his face contorted into a fit of momentary rage as he seemed to launch an assault, however it passed and he only narrowed his icy blue eyes into slits of malicious threat. "You," he managed to claim, this time with vengeance dripping from his avowal, "are nothing."  
  
Crystal droplets pierced the corners of her eyes, a lovely silvery gray such as that of the sky before a storm now wavered by a wall of water, and her lower lip trembled with hurt and fear of her once best friend.  
  
Thaliandae slowly raised his left hand, and she dared a subconscious step backwards. "Feanarlas," he told her, voice once more calmly collected to indifference. "Do not defy me."  
  
"I do not," she stammered, controlling her upset with much difficulty. "Why do you not believe me? I never meant to hurt you." Her supple chest rose and fell rhythmically with her shuddering breaths, gentle fingers clutching the skirts of her light silk dress, the colors of the sunrise, all oranges and yellows and pale pinks blending together in a swirl of magnificence.  
  
Thaliandae's laugh was a demonic portrait painting out anguish and sorrow into a riveting stream. "You did nothing of the sort." His hand, now level with his eyes but parallel with equal distance from his upper arm, curled into a tight fist, crushing invisible offenders, and his lightheartedness slashed out at Feanarlas' heart. Tendrils of spiraling obscurity and specks of scarlet encircled his securely wrapped fingers.  
  
"I, I didn't?" Twisted into her face was bewilderment and confusion at his new demeanor, and for a single moment her guard was let down.  
  
"No," he conveyed, his lopsided smile diminishing into a contemptuous snarl. "You killed me."_

Her footsteps were silent, the freshly fallen leaves submitting under her weight, and as she traveled ever farther, periodically glancing behind her in fear and in hope of what may follow, the denseness of the forest increased drastically. The sky itself was invisible to her sight, and the only proof of the time being day was the slightly lightened green flecks speckled over the ground sparingly, a pleasant contrast to the piney darkness surrounding her.  
  
It had been over four hours since she had abruptly awoken; startled in such a manner that she could not even describe it (almost like that of a shock of lightning). It had been over four hours since she had realized that she didn't know where she was. Four hours of attempting jumps over fallen logs with legs of lead, sore and weak, of brushing past low hanging branches that clawed at her already torn and singed dress, two-hundred forty minutes of crawling through thick underbrush and adding to her growing collection of scratches, of carefully stepping onto smoothed rocks to cross swift- moving streams. It had been four hours of not knowing who she was.  
  
Lacking a name and oblivious to a past, there was a tormenting expanse of emptiness within her mind and within her very soul; one after another she pried again and again for something, anything. All she succeeded in surfacing was that the color of her ashy outfit had originally been a splendid blend of oranges, reds, pinks, and peaches, colors similar to that of the sunrise.  
  
How symbolic her own thoughts were of the metaphor she created pertaining to that design; the sunrise, a new light, a new beginning, starting afresh and innocent. So many wished for such a chance, an opportunity to cast away their daily routine and live in a separate manner, pristine and perfect. 'But how could anyone wish for such a thing?' she thought cold- heartedly to herself, resentful of opinions she could not even pinpoint. 'How can one ever yearn to discard who they are?'  
  
A straying thorn bush snatched a lock of her hair, and with complete patience, as she was in no such rush, delicately fragile fingers worked in graceful manner to untangle a mixture of raven black and subtle red from the shrub, after which she paused momentarily to gaze upon her own tresses. She considered it a curious, however gorgeous fusion, the disparity an apparent asset to itself. Heaving a longing sigh she threw it back over her shoulder, and felt it settle in with the rest of her waist-long hair.  
  
In an instant she continued on, in whatever direction that it was that she was approaching, and despite the occasional uprising of frustration she did not lose hope. There was always hope. Wasn't there?  
  
At this point she was faced with an oddly formed bush, a thick stump off to the right with intensely opaque brambles bending on either side, blocking her path but for a small opening on the ground. Taking a quick breath she dropped lightly to her knees and peered beneath, spotting blinding light emanating from the other side. Relief flooded over her like wave of cool water and she struggled to (flat on her stomach as well as she could manage) crawl with her elbows, constantly entangled. Before she recognized the warning signs, she became far too caught to release herself; there was no way she could move. Back was unfeasible, forward was impossible, and in a pitiful state of mind, she cried out in anguish. It wasn't fair!  
  
As she lay there, soiled and wet from perspiration ensued by contact with dirt, she whimpered and prayed for someone to find her; anyone willing to help and do no harm. The white brilliance that was her hope from the other side dimmed and darkened as night approached, and momentarily she nearly gave up, uttering one last call before falling silent.  
  
Suddenly a noise caught her attention and her eyes stared with anticipation at the opening, ever drearier since she had begun. Her waiting gripped her as a panic, one that felt eerily familiar, and she felt as she was about to remember...  
  
A curious head popped into view, and the fear evaporated, a bit of a disappointment to the girl, and she focused her intent on the being before her.

Piercing pools of sapphire ice gazed at her in bewilderment, apparently questioning her presence in her current position, but her throat was parched and her voice failed. She was quickly aware of her growing wariness, which must have been brushed aside when she knew she had to be fully aware.

These eyes, so familiar and so recent, her fright nearly overcame her again, but her fatigue was stronger.  
  
Now, however, as the handsomely defined cheekbones and smooth blonde hair disappeared from view, and a manly voice could be heard calling for assistance, her eyes blurred. No longer was desperation of such importance felt, and she could let go, so she did just that.  
  
It had barely been moments before callused hands grasped her shoulders and seemingly with no effort withdrew her from her predicament, careful as to the position of thorns. She was stood upright and spoken to, but her mind was spinning and her ears could not comprehend the voice. She stumbled, caught at the elbow in a gentleman-like manner, and she slurred out the words, "I need to sit down." She was escorted to an overly large boulder and, as she had asked, was seated.  
  
She didn't wish to be rude, she didn't want to make a bad impression, and she took this time to clear herself and concentrate. Her eyes focused with much effort, and even though a stifling headache pulsated she managed to decently stand and hold a conversation.  
  
Now she could fully scrutiny the man that was before her, but he was no man at all... He wore an emerald tunic made of fine material and bordered with—oh!—pinpricks of emeralds themselves, a gold also accenting the outfit, which curved to a muscular form beneath. His pants were a mud- colored brown, more attractive than it may sound, and his blonde hair possessed two braids along the sides, extending a little longer than shoulder length. He had a charming face, and his eyes held hers in concern.  
  
"Are you all right?" he inquired gently, glimpsing over her and she did her best to stand as straight and proper as possible while nonchalantly smoothing her skirts.  
  
"I'm..." She paused in thought, turning over the words carefully in her mind. How could she explain that she did not know how she fared, let alone that she had no memory whatsoever? Rapidly coming to a resolve, she flashed him a thankful look. "I'm as well as should be expected. I, hmm, suffered a slight accident and I'm a bit lost." She wasn't aware of who he might have been, perhaps diverse than how he seemed and would have taken advantage of her if she had been totally honest.  
  
"Accident," he murmured, eyes narrowing not in anger but wonder. "Were there others? Shall I go and look?" His caring was oddly comforting, but she waved the idea away with her hand.  
  
"No, no, I'm alone."  
  
He gasped, reaching out and tenderly taking her hand for what reason she knew not. "You're injured!" Her eyes, at first puzzled before realization dawned on her, took in the sight of her fragile pale hand smothered in a torrent of crimson, a deep gash in the center of her palm.  
  
"Oh..." She continued not to feel any pain from that area, strangely admiring the wound. How did she not notice it before, when she had examined her hair? Where did it come from?  
  
"Come, we must get you some aide." His charismatic tone enchanted her; not necessarily in a romantic way as just a wonder at the possibility of how he spoke. This elf certainly had many things going for him.  
  
He politely offered his arm (or to carry her, though she refused equally graciously) and they began the trip on foot. "It's no more than half a mile or so," he informed her with a sidelong glance. "We'll be there in no time." Sure enough, practically as soon as they had started they reached an extensive field and she gaped at the building before her.  
  
A castle with walls reaching a hundred feet high towered before her, Elvin archers scattered the premises by way of guard watch, and a gorgeous woman ran to meet them. Light brown hair flowed to her feet, let loose all behind her, and a perfectly slender body could be detected beneath a light silk shift.  
  
"Legolas! Is she all right?" the kind woman questioned her escort, who—as the female approached—had blazing hazel eyes to imply a much separate side than that which was shown.  
  
"She requires medical assistance," he returned, motioning to her to look at the desecrated appendage.  
  
"Goodness! Come, right away..." From there the three ascended the grounds through a large back archway, unnoticed by all who stood by on duty. As they journeyed, the woman spoke. "I am sure, knowing him," she grinned with a beautiful white-toothed smile, "you have not been introduced?"  
  
"Orcs and trolls," he grumbled, casting an apologetic glance to her. "I am Legolas... I offer my apologies."  
  
"And I am Lilainia, but most call me Lili. And, you are...?" She could not bear the thought of revealing her weakness, and instead made up her mind about what resolution would be best fitting.  
  
"Siofra." The 's' sound had a familiar ring to it, and assuming it might as well be her name, Siofra offered a curtsy; a total failure as her clothing was in shreds and her companions didn't approve of the formality.  
  
"Please, don't bother," Lili told her nicely, and led her through a doorway after a walk down the corridor. "Legolas, you can go about your business here, I'll take care of her."  
  
"Are you sure she's all—"  
  
"She'll be fine. Now, shoo." Delicately raising a neatly shaped eyebrow in expectance, the elf retreated in the opposite direction from where they had come, and Lilainia returned to her patient.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry for the trouble..." Siofra attempted, but her fellow waved a dismissive hand.  
  
"No worries, although that is a nasty cut you have there. How did it happen?"  
  
An image flashed across Siofra's mind like a picture, but she couldn't decipher what had taken place at the time. "I tripped."  
  
"Horrid fall, it seems to be," Lili commented as she thoroughly cleaned the girl's hand with a warm, moist cloth. "Awfully deep..."  
  
"Yes, I'm a bit clumsy." This erupted a light-hearted laugh from her host, which raised her spirits.  
  
"So, you're not an Elf now are you?" Lilainia set aside the cleaning utensil and gently brushed back Siofra's hair to examine her ears. "No, suspected not seeing as how you referred to yourself as clumsy."  
  
The girl seemed confused with herself after the inspection and pondered, because she didn't know, exactly what she might be. She must have been human...  
  
"However," Lili continued, now softly wrapping her hand with bandages, "you could not possibly be human..." Siofra cringed, and her comrade sensed the tension. Their gazes met, and held, for quite some time.  
  
"Right then..." Lilainia disregarded what had just taken place and finished up her work. "You're all set! How does it feel?"  
  
"Splendid."  
  
"Lovely. And, is it safe to assume you'll be staying awhile, or would you like to be on your way?"  
  
"If it's not such a burden..."  
  
"It never is." Lili smiled sweetly and gave Siofra the once-over. "By the way... Do you think you'd like something new to wear?"  
  
"Oh, you're too kind!" She was all too happily set by this company, this situation she was now drawn into; who knew what was held in her past? But now was the present, and there was no such thing as a past..."  
  
"Hardly, you need it, you're in ruins! Besides, it shows off a bit more than you may find appropriate." Siofra's eyes widened and hurriedly she stared in a state of shock at herself. Her dress was torn to such a point that more of the anatomy than necessary was exposed. "Relax," her new friend told her with a laugh. "That's why everyone was avoiding looking at you. As boyish as they may seem, the men here are rather gentlemen."  
  
"Thank you... thank you."  
  
"Whatever you need is at your disposal," Lili stated, her warm girly voice unbelievably dreamy. Her eyes still inferred a much different personality, however, and Siofra was interested in seeing exactly what that would be like.  
  
"Come with me." The two now turned in the direction Legolas had headed when he was dismissed and walked a few hundred feet to the end where a curvy stairwell wound up to another floor. "Up there is a door—just walk right in and it's a pleasant room where you can stay. I'll send someone up as soon as possible to take your measurements, and meanwhile there's a set of casual dress folded on the bed; feel free to change and wash up."  
  
Without awaiting thanks or any such gratification, Lilainia turned on her heal and strolled down the hall, disappearing from view. Siofra, as calm and serene as she was, still refused a complete repose carefully stepping up the fascinatingly carved staircase and examining the bandaging around her wrist which was now unusable.  
  
The oak door that awaited her swung open with ease, and she was greeted readily with a frightening smile.


End file.
